


a glass of wine

by chailattemusings



Series: Sunless [1]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: M/M, Sunless Server, alcohol tw, biting tw, blood tw, injury tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 18:56:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3907030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chailattemusings/pseuds/chailattemusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garion is trapped outside and a blood moon rises. He finds shelter with an old friend. At least, he thought they were a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a glass of wine

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote vampire trash kink because my friends told me to. 
> 
> This takes place in KirinDave's new "Sunless" universe.

The blood moon had risen.

Garion breathed hard, his feet pounding on rough dirt with each step. His legs ached and he was littered with cuts and bruises.

But he couldn't stop. The moon was bright and red in the sky, and all around him dozens of monsters were waiting in the dark, ready to kill him.

Why, tonight of all nights, had there been a blood moon? Garion growled, pushing himself to run faster. He'd thought he could leave his temporary shelter and grab some wool. Even if night fell while he was out, he could easily outrun a couple zombies and a skeleton or two.

But then he'd seen the red tint to the sky and looked at the moon, at the light it cast over the world. Almost immediately a skeleton twice his height had crept from the darkness of the woods where he was searching for sheep, and Garion hadn't had time to think before bolting, an arrow scraping his arm as he ducked away, the ground around his feet stained with a red glow.

He'd tried to go home but there were dozens of creepers camped around his small wooden shelter. Garion had spun around to avoid them and nearly stumbled into a spider's web, and now he ran without direction, looking for any place that could give him shelter for the night.

Garion stopped and put his hands on his knees, panting hard. Every rasped groan, every clack of bones knocking against each other made him flinch, made him think of the hisses of creepers and growls of Endermen that he wouldn't hear until it was too late.

He needed shelter.

A sharp knock of hard bone hitting wood startled him from his brief rest. Garion started running again but skidded to a stop almost immediately. A skeleton was directly ahead, aiming at him. He yelped and ducked behind a tree, the whoosh of an arrow missing his head by a few inches. He switched directions and ran again, willing his legs to go faster despite the sharp pain in his thighs that was slowly creeping its way up his sides. His entire body burned and his lungs felt weighted with lead, begging for him to stop, but the only tools he'd brought with him were his shears and there was nowhere to hide in the dense forest where monsters weren't waiting.

Garion searched for something– _anything–_ that might save him. A small cavern, a short tree to climb, an abandoned house . . .

Just when Garion thought he would collapse from exhaustion, he saw it. There was a light up ahead, burning steadily. Too tired to even celebrate, he pushed forward, ignoring the twinge in his thighs and the raw scrape of air through his throat.

The light was coming from an open gateway in a stone wall that housed a village. He could see the edges of houses and torches lighting up the gravel pathways inside. He didn't stop to think about whether he would be welcome; lights meant monsters wouldn't crawl from the darkness, and he would take anything at this point.

He dove past the gateway and stopped, glancing around. Small houses dotted the field inside the stone walls, separated by the gravel paths and tiny farms of wheat and carrots. All of the doors were shut, but there weren't any monsters.

Not yet, at least.

A groan rumbled behind him. Garion whirled around.

At least five monsters had crawled from the forest, heading right for him. Zombies trudged slowly toward the open door, rotted flesh stretched tight over atrophied muscles, and another skeleton was taking aim with a bow that glowed deep purple under the tinge of the moon. At the very back was a creeper, bent low with its mouth open to flash menacing teeth.

Garion scrambled away from the gate and ran to the houses. All of the doors were shut and he could see villagers in the windows, hiding in the corners. He went to the nearest house and banged on the door with his fist.

“Let me in!” he cried, trying the locked handle and banging on the door again. “Please! It's blood moon!”

The villagers inside didn't move, refusing to look at him through the windows. Garion kicked the door, desperate, but no one came outside to help or even unlocked their doors. He turned around and saw the creeper, stalking towards him faster than the zombies could stumble over the ground. Above them, on top of the wall surrounding the village, an Enderman had teleported in, looking back and forth with narrow pink eyes.

Garion fled again, running down the lines of houses. He heard more arrow shots and swallowed his next cry; every door was still locked with no sign of help coming for him.

He made a sharp turn, hoping to throw the creeper off. But he hadn't looked where he was going and smacked straight into the stone wall. He yelped and fumbled, finding his bearings and running down the length of the wall. He kept close, under the overhang, lest the Enderman lay eyes on him.

“Fuck, fuck,” he whispered, searching for an empty hut or one of the rare watchtowers, a place he could hide–

His hand slipped over something and there was a loud creak. Garion jerked to a stop and backed away. The bricks of the stone wall slowly dislodged, moving away from him.

They swung open as a unit, one large door connected by a framework of wood and gears. The open door revealed a hallway carved into the depths of the wall, dark colors stretching beyond it. Garion tensed, glancing inside. There was a long red carpet and black walls, shadows flickering from some kind of low light.

A growl behind him snapped Garion from his thoughts. He whirled around and saw the Enderman not two feet away, gurgling low in its thin throat. He turned and leaped into the hallway. Who cared where the fuck it had come from, he needed a place to hide.

He fumbled around the wall, looking for a knob or switch, and found the button connected to the door. He slammed his hand on it just as the Enderman looked at the door and the bricks shut in its face. Garion panted, keeping his hand over the button until he was sure the door wouldn't open again.

Stepping away, he chanced another look at the hallway. The light came from a chandelier hanging on the high ceiling, casting sharp shadows over the ceiling and floor. The red carpet was thick under his aching feet, and the walls, made of black brick, swallowed all the light that hit them. Garion frowned, crossing his arms. He'd never heard of a hidden mansion inside a village before. _Someone_ had to be here.

Footsteps. Garion jolted and moved away from the far wall, his back knocking against the massive door. A figure cloaked in red and black turned the corner of a side hall and looked up.

He met Garion's gaze and pursed his lips, one eyebrow raised.

Garion's eyes went wide. “K-Kirin?!”

Kirin tilted his head. “Well,” he said, turning to walk down the length of the entryway. “It seems I have a visitor. I don't get those often.”

Garion's heart twinged. He moved away from the door, swallowing. “Kirin,” he said, fighting the shakes in his voice, “it's _me_.” He put a hand to his chest. “Garion.”

Kirin's eyes narrowed. “You look . . . familiar,” he said slowly, his eyes flicking up and down Garion's body. “But I don't recall the name.”

Blood rushed to Garion's face and he struggled not to say something cruel. It had been _months_ since they'd last seen each other. Garion had found himself in a new land without his mentor and he'd spent weeks wandering. He'd struggled to gather enough materials to protect himself on his first night and used his precious waking hours making fabrics to sell to new people he'd never met. He'd tossed and turned at night, working through his sorrow at losing Kirin. He'd made friends in time, but none of it had made up for Kirin's absence.

And now Kirin didn't fucking _recognize_ him?!

But Kirin didn't quite look the same, either. His posture was different, less relaxed, and his skin had an odd pallor to it. His blond hair was longer, brushed back in careful sweeps. His eyes had turned a vicious blood red, watching Garion carefully.

But what _really_ caught his attention was the garish fabric Kirin had draped over himself.

Garion couldn't help a sneer. “What are you _wearing_?”

Kirin's lips thinned. “Excuse me?”

Garion gestured to his outfit. It was a black vest with a red shirt and pants, which would be fine in theory. But the material was _awful_ , stretched tight over Kirin's limbs, flaring on the sleeves and neck to show off the white ruffled material underneath. “Is that _velour_?” Garion asked, unable to keep the disgust from his voice. What kind if person wore _velour_?

Kirin's lips lifted, showing off sharp white teeth. Garion flinched at the the sight and suddenly Kirin was in front of him, moving in the blink of an eye. He clasped a hand on Garion's shoulder.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice sending shivers up Garion's spine, “just why did you barge into my home? It's rather _rude_ to insult your host, you should know.”

Garion tried to wrestle his body away but Kirin's grasp was strong, far stronger than Garion remembered. And those teeth were still showing, threatening him.

“I-It's a blood moon,” he said, his eyes flicking toward the door. “The villagers wouldn't let me hide in their houses.”

Kirin's lips pulled up in the most unsettling of smiles, his canines poking at his bottom lip. They were sharp enough to tear flesh; something unpleasant coiled in Garion's stomach. Lady Arcturus had told him stories, words of caution about sharp teeth and the dark night while she shared knowing looks with her companion, Lady Capella.

Kirin interrupted the thoughts. “How unfortunate,” he purred, digging his fingers into Garion's shoulder. His nails nearly pierced the shirt, pressing into the skin in five distinct points of pain that had Garion whining in his throat. “Perhaps the villagers were right to assume that you would not be a _proper_ guest.”

He looked up, meeting Kirin's eyes. They were red and glaring and _not the same_. This wasn't the same Kirin that he'd lost months ago.

But he'd said Garion's name was familiar. He _had_ to be the same. Something had just . . . happened to him, that was all.

“Please,” he gasped, tugging against the hold. “Can I stay here? Just until the blood moon ends?”

Kirin tilted his head. “Would you want to stay with someone who . . .” His eyes trailed down, glancing at his own clothes. “Wears something you so clearly disapprove of?” His nails dug in harder and pain zinged up Garion's spine, twinging just beneath his skull.

“I'm sorry!” he said, gasping. “I'm sorry, I won't say anything! Please, Kirin!”

The pain stopped and Garion opened his eyes. Kirin had pulled back, slowly releasing his hand. Garion clenched his teeth as the feeling returned to his shoulder, pain flaring where Kirin's nails had been.

Kirin looked him up and down again. “Well,” he said with a long sigh. “Come with me, then.”

Garion swallowed, watching him, the way he walked smoothly, hands clenched in tight fists as he folded his arms behind his back. The light from the chandelier reflected off his skin to show its paleness. Garion forced himself to push off the wall, following with shaky steps. Kirin turned down a hallway, out of sight.

Garion paused and looked back at the door, thinking of the monsters that lay beyond.

He turned down the hall, his heart beating hard in his chest.

Everything in the mansion was black, grey, and red. Garion frowned at it. It was as bad as the tacky suit Kirin was wearing and it all screamed of an attempted mood: gloom. Garion tried not to think of all the ways he would change it and walking quickly behind Kirin down the hallway. Kirin's steps were light, fast, and he had to struggle to keep pace.

Kirin stopped. Garion squeaked and halted behind him, arms flying up to his chest to shield himself. Kirin turned, his brow raised again. His lips lifted just slightly, flashing again in the soft light coming from the torches on the walls. “I suppose you'll be wanting dinner.”

Garion swallowed nervously. “N-Not necessarily.”

“Nonsense.” Kirin waved him forward and started walking again, turning down another hall. “I would be a poor host if I did not at least attempt to properly feed you.”

Garion hurried after him. Kirin was acting _strange_. He'd known him for months before they'd lost contact. Kirin had been determined and chipper, making machines to automate his resources and trying his best to get his assigned tasks done efficiently and with a bounce in his step.

So far, this Kirin had only been cold and abrupt. He couldn't be a different person, that was _impossible_ , and yet he walked with more surety than Garion had ever seen. His voice was the same but he spoke with more caution, like Garion would try to attack him any second. That, and he had no idea who Garion was.

They stopped in another doorway. Inside was a dining room, as black as everything else with another gaudy chandelier hanging over a long, dark table. There was a single place set at the very head of it with an empty plate and a wine glass.

“Sit,” Kirin said, walking past him. “I'll find you something to eat.”

Garion shifted on his feet and watched Kirin slip into a room on the side. If it were a kitchen Garion could only hope it didn't look as dark and empty as the rest of the place.

He pulled out the lone chair at the table and gingerly sat down, flinching at the stiffness of the chair's cushion. Something was _wrong_ here. Kirin's fangs and red eyes put him on edge, and the distinct lack of disorder and lived-in wellness of the mansion had suspicious skitters burrowing under his skin. The entire place gave off the impression that whoever lived here was long dead, and yet Kirin was here, living with villager neighbors and wearing fucking _velour._

Garion waited in silence, one hand digging into his pant leg.

When Kirin returned he was carrying a covered plate and a bottle of wine. He slid the plate on the table and lifted the metal cover, revealing a hastily cooked piece of steak. Garion glanced between Kirin and the meat. “This is . . .”

“You don't have to eat it, of course,” Kirin said, putting the wine bottle close to his mouth. Garion's eyes went wide as he bit into the cork with one sharp tooth and gave it a harsh tug, yanking the cork out and tilting wine into his glass. He took the cork from his tooth with his other hand and stopped the wine up again when the glass was full. “It's only a host's offered meal,” he continued, setting the bottle down. “It would be _rude_ not to accept, but–”

“No!” Garion said, sitting up. “It's fine, Kirin, thank you. I really appreciate you helping me out.”

Kirin paused, and smirked. “Well, then. Enjoy.”

Garion looked at the food again, and back to Kirin. “Aren't you hungry too?”

A startled laugh bubbled from Kirin's throat and he smiled, a genuine expression that showed his fangs off again. Garion's stomach twisted. Kirin said, “Whatever you seem to know about me, Garion, it doesn't appear to be recent knowledge. I have very different tastes as of late.”

“Different?” Garion asked. “Like . . . like what?” But the fangs and the red eyes and the pale skin were suddenly adding up, and Garion didn't like the obvious picture they painted.

He'd heard of creatures that ran in the night, different from the usual monsters he'd always known. Unlike zombies and skeletons, these beings prowled in the shadows and stole people's blood. Lady Arcturus had been very careful to warn Garion to run if he ever saw one, ignoring the amused looks that Lady Capella shot her as she said it.

Garion had had fleeting thoughts of those warnings while running under the blood moon, and now that very creature stood before him with a delighted grin.

Kirin tilted his head again, the low light glinting off his teeth. “I think you already know.”

Garion tensed. The meat on his plate was charred, the smell burning his nose, and the wine had a faintly bitter scent. It was far from appetizing, and Kirin was looking at him with narrowed eyes, his lips pulled back over his teeth like he might bite any second.

“Won't you starve?” Garion asked, fidgeting in his seat. His first instinct should have been to _run_ but this was Kirin. This was his friend.

“Starve? No, but.” Kirin pursed his lips. “I will probably be rather uncomfortable if I don't feed tonight.”

“T-Then,” Garion paused, feeling the beat of his heart, fingers digging into his pants again. “Can I help somehow?” He met Kirin's eyes, his own wide and hopeful. “I'm h-human, after all.”

Kirin glanced sharply at him. “You're offering?”

Garion ducked his head. Was he? The truth was obvious now, and Lady Arcturus . . . Archie had warned him about vampires, had told him they were the worst thing he could run into. And now here stood his best friend and companion, someone he'd spent months searching for, with sharp teeth and red eyes that bored into him.

“Yes,” he said, meeting Kirin's eyes. “Yes, I'm offering.”

Kirin smiled again, eyes narrowed in delight. “In that case, I suggest you eat. Having one's blood taken can have some . . . adverse affects that would be helped with a full stomach.”

Garion looking at the food again and nodded. The meat wasn't prepared like anything a human would make, but then, Kirin had never been good at cooking. The wine, at least, seemed decent. He didn't know much about wine. Garion picked up the glass and sniffed it. It smelled appropriately bitter with a slight fruity tang. He tipped the glass back, taking a couple sips.

The flavor sat heavy on his tongue and trickled down his throat. Garion winced and set the glass down. It'd been a long time since he'd had wine that strong. His eyes slid to Kirin, still standing by the table. “Are you going to sit down?”

Kirin shrugged. “This home wasn't made for dinner parties, I'm afraid. Only one chair.”

Shifting in his seat, Garion said, “Don't stare at me like a creep, then. It's weird.”

“Ah, how could I forget.” Kirin brushed a hand down his shirt, settling the frills of his ascot. “Most people aren't comfortable with being stared at, are they?” He stepped back and turned so he wasn't looking directly at Garion.

Kirin spoke as if he hadn't been human most of his life. Garion frowned and pulled his plate closer. The meat still didn't look very appetizing, but his stomach was empty from spending hours running away from monsters, and if he kept his offer, he would need the strength.

Somewhere, Archie was shaking her head at him.

Kirin kept his eyes half on Garion, half wandering over the room. Garion watching him in return, barely paying attention to his food. It was bland anyway, and he found it more interesting to watch the shifts in Kirin's body, how he always seemed to have his razor sharp nails or glinting fangs showing at any given time. Garion wondered how much of the display was for show.

He only made it halfway through his meal, shoving the plate aside and taking another couple sips of the wine. Garion shuddered and looked at Kirin. “Uh . . .”

Kirin snapped to attention, smiling at him. “Finished?”

Garion barely had time to nod. Kirin was on him immediately, taking up his hands and dragging him from his chair. “Time to accommodate your host, then,” he purred, clasping tight fingers on Garion's wrist and pulling him down another hallway. Garion whimpered. How much more screwed would he be if he'd stayed outside with the blood moon instead of coming inside the mansion?

Kirin stopped and led them inside a smaller room. He released Garion's wrist and turned around, spreading his arms wide. “How's this?”

Garion blinked and looked around. It was a small bedroom. The bed on the right had black sheets and red pillows, and there was a black leather armchair in the corner. Garion looked at Kirin and tried to crack a smile. “I thought vampires slept in coffins.”

Kirin chuckled and shook his head. “As if I would show you my coffin.” He moved forward, taking up Garion's wrists again, gentler this time. He cradled it, running his fingers over the palm. Garion's breath hitched and he stared as Kirin pushed underneath his sleeve, thumbing the buttons on the cuff. He moved even closer and brought Garion's hand up, briefly nosing at the thin skin. “Lovely,” he murmured, pressing his lips there in a quick kiss and lowering Garion's hand back down.

Rather than lead them to the bed or the chair like Garion expected, Kirin knelt down. Garion's heart fluttered to see him on his knees after the way he'd been acting, but all thought stopped when Kirin undid the buttons on Garion's cuff and slowly pushed the sleeve up.

He thought the bite might come then, but Kirin only kissed his wrist again, lingering longer. His lips were warm, something Garion wouldn't have expected. Vampires were supposed to be the living dead, cold and calculating and wishing only for the suffering of others. But Kirin kissed him again, taking Garion's hand in one of his own and pushing Garion's sleeve up with the other. Something hot and tight coiled in Garion's stomach and he struggled to find his breath, his eyes locked on Kirin's lips moving up the soft flesh, so close to the blue veins visible just beneath his skin.

The kisses were quick, peppered over the skin, Kirin's fangs barely brushing over him. Each time he felt it Garion's heart twinged with panic, his instinct to flee spiking inside him. Everything about Kirin screamed predator, and yet, his touches continued to be gentle, pressing softly and washing his arm in hot breath. Garion couldn't help the moan that slipped out as Kirin's nose traced the inside of his elbow, followed by fangs that threatened to pierce him. Kirin parted his lips, but the fangs were replaced by his tongue, tracing a long line up Garion's bicep.

Garion's legs had started trembling and he swallowed, fighting to get enough air. Kirin had _never_ done anything like this before. He was already getting dizzy. There was a tickle at the back of his mind each time Kirin passed feather-light touches over his arm, nails scraping him in a way that tingled at the base of his spine and zinged upward. He wanted to paw at Kirin and stop the touches that made his vision go hazy, but he didn't want it to stop.

Kirin hesitated when he was almost to Garion's shoulder, in front of the bunched up sleeve. He kissed there one more time, dragging his fangs down just enough to put a hard pressure there. It felt like all the times Garion had accidentally pricked himself with his sewing needles. Kirin withdrew without puncturing anything though, kissing down Garion's arm in a fast rhythm and standing up.

Garion's eyes had long since glazed over and he barely registered it when Kirin sat in the armchair, but he saw Kirin's hand beckoning him and he made his way over. His legs wobbled and Garion breathed out hard, waiting until he was steady. Once he was sure he wouldn't collapse, he stood in front of Kirin and opened his mouth to speak. But Kirin only grinned and shushed him, taking up his wrist again.

Kirin pulled him to the chair, nudging his legs until Garion climbed on the chair with both legs straddling Kirin's lap. Kirin smiled up at him, his teeth glinting. Garion panted and his eyes slipped closed. What was he _doing_.

A hand slipped into his hair and drew him down. Garion opened his eyes again to see Kirin watching him, their faces only inches apart. Kirin paused to look at him, his other hand settling on Garion's hip to squeeze. Garin whined in his throat, trying to close the distance between them, but Kirin's hand pulled his hair tight and kept him in place. “Patience,” he chastised, laughing under his breath. Garion frowned and bit his lip. His arm still tingled with Kirin's residual touch and heat boiled in the base of his belly, yearning for something more.

Carefully, watching Garion, Kirin lowered him in his lap until he was sitting, braced on Kirin's thighs. Kirin pet down his neck and made soothing noises, nails tracing over the top of his spine. Garion squirmed, resting his own hands on Kirin's chest to grab at his vest. It was as ugly as the rest of the goddamn outfit and he opened his mouth to say something, but Kirin leaned in then, pushing his face into Garion's neck.

Breath hitching, Garion's heart beat fast and hard like the beat of a drum, threatening to break out of his ribcage. He sat frozen while Kirin pushed his nose against the skin, breathing in slowly to take in the scent. “Luscious,” he purred.

“D-Don't be weird about it,” Garion said, his thighs flexing around Kirin's hips. He'd never been _smelled_ of all things and the sensation of Kirin nosing at his neck sent hot tingles down his body, settling between his legs. He wished he weren't so spread out so he could grind a bit and get some relief.

Kirin leaned back to look him in the eye. “Am I not allowed to appreciate the pretty meal in front of me?”

“God!” Garion made a disgusted noise. “Don't talk about me like that, holy shit! I'm not just a walking blood bank, you know.”

Kirin laughed and shook his head. “Of course, of course. I was only getting into it, as it were.” He moved both hands to Garion's sides, rubbing them up and down. He pressed in hard, kneading thick fingers into Garion's muscles. Garion sighed and pushed into it, forgetting his aggravation and rolling his hips to try and find any kind of friction. But he was still spread too wide and Kirin was moving too slowly. He groaned and leaned forward, pushing his head against Kirin's chest. “Fuck,” he said, breathing fast. “Kirin, this isn't fair.”

A hand fell on his ass again and squeezed. Garion arched against it, pulling on Kirin's vest. Kirin said, “We never agreed that being fair was part of the deal.”

He was pushed back, a hand solid on his chest and moving up to grab his chin, pushing it up and to the side. Garion's legs were shaking again but he did his best to control it while Kirin leaned in, smelling him. Something wet touched his neck, licking up the side, and Garion flinched. “Kirin,” he said, mouth falling open, panting at the feeling of Kirin tracing his tongue over his neck, teeth grazing his pulse point.

Kirin moved one leg up, holding Garion in place, and shifted him until he was sitting over Kirin's thigh. Pushing Garion down, Kirin ground his thigh up against him, encouraging him to seek the pleasure out. Garion moaned and did as he was instructed, grinding on Kirin's thigh and shivering at the pleasure that licked through him like an open flame.

Kirin's tongue had gotten more aggressive and his teeth pressed in with more fervor, threatening to break the skin. Garion bit his own lip in response, pushing himself harder on Kirin's leg to channel the panic; the instinct to run got stronger each time Kirin pressed into his neck. The pinprick pain hooked behind his belly button, tight and uncomfortable, and Garion's pleasure ebbed in the wake of the sharp stabbing pain.

“Please,” he moaned, tilting his head more. “Don't tease, you jerk, just get it over with.”

Kirin drew back again, forcing Garion to meet his eyes with a hand still curled under his jaw. “Out of patience already, are we?” he asked.

“It's–” Garion swallowed. There weren't _words_ but Kirin was watching him and desire still collected like a pile of burning coal in his groin, urging him to rock against Kirin until he found release. He met Kirin's eyes, the bright piercing red, and he couldn't help the other urge that bubbled up inside him.

He ducked forward and kissed Kirin firmly, breathing in fast through his nose. There was a pause, and then Kirin's hands moved, clamping down tight on his hips to anchor him. His lips opened for Garion and a tongue swept into Garion's mouth. Garion breathed hard and pushed further to seek out that warmth. Kirin's lips were hard, harder than they should have been, but they still gave, and Kirin's tongue still brushed against his own with a warm softness. Garion pushed harder on Kirin's leg and groaned at the bolt of pleasure that sparked up and down his spine, gone all too soon. He curled his hands tighter in Kirin's vest and pulled.

Kirin broke them apart and when Garion looked, the pupils in his red eyes were blown wide. He grabbed Garion's ass again, squeezing, and said, “Was _that_ all you wanted?”

“Shut up,” Garion muttered automatically, and hesitated. Kirin had raised a brow at him again and Garion cursed at himself. Kirin was so _different_ now, even their banter felt wrong. Kirin's hands were strong and his touch was warm but everything else was foreign, like taking a different path home. It was the same person but everything about him pointed to danger and told Garion to run.

He crushed the instinct by kissing Kirin again, pushing at him until Kirin gave and opened his mouth, quickly taking control and holding Garion tight while his tongue played over Garion's. It only lasted a few seconds, and Kirin pulled back. “We should get to the main event, hm?”

Garion tensed and nodded, a fresh wave of panic fluttering through him. Kirin smiled and nudged at his legs, moving Garion backward until he was forced to stand. Garion whimpered at the loss of contact and Kirin shushed him, walking him to the bed and urging him to sit down. Garion tentatively sat on the edge, putting his hands down on the mattress to brace himself. Kirin grinned, showing his teeth again. Arousal spread thick between Garion's legs and he tensed, toes curling and knees pressed together.

Kirin knelt, putting a hand on each of Garion's knees to push them apart. He leaned in to press his mouth to Garion's thigh over the cloth.

Breath hitching, Garion leaned his head back, unwilling to watch as Kirin kissed and nosed at his thighs. His hands twisted in the sheets, pulling the blankets up, and already he could feel himself shaking. He wanted to lie down but he didn't want to have to crane his neck when he inevitably looked at Kirin again.

Kirin reached up, slipping his fingers over Garion's hips and under the band of his pants. Garion cursed again and thrust his hips forward, into the touch. Kirin laughed, running his hands over Garion's hips and brushing over the button of his waistband. Carefully, Kirin undid it and slid his pants down a few inches. Garion's fingers flexed and he breathed hard; he was going to expose himself to a vampire, to _Kirin_.

Any excuse not to do so flew out the window when Kirin leaned up and placed a tender kiss on his stomach, a scant few inches above where Garion was already wet and eager. Kirin nudged him up again and slipped Garion's pants off completely, his shoes with them, leaving the boxers in place. Garion glanced at them, unsure, but Kirin made no move to take them off and returned his attention to Garion's thighs.

With the skin exposed, Kirin's kisses were more enthusiastic, coupled with licks and the scrape of his teeth. Each time his fangs brushed over them Garion flinched, and Kirin put his hands back over Garion's knees to keep him still. Kirin's lips pulled back and he dug his fangs just slightly into the fleshy part of Garion's thigh, his teeth nearly breaking skin.

“Kirin!” Garion said, his voice high pitched and tight.

Pausing, Kirin looked up at him. “Something the matter?”

“I–” Garion swallowed. His mouth was suddenly dry. “I don't–”

“Let's change the game a bit, shall we?” Kirin stood and kicked off his loafers, sitting on the bed. “Come here,” he said, waving a hand to motion Garion closer. Garion hesitated and did as asked until he was settled across Kirin's lap again. Without the armrests and back of the chair, he could sit more comfortably, knees squeezing Kirin's hips and arms draping over Kirin's shoulders. He could feel how wet he was, soaking his boxers, and the heat in his groin throbbed when Kirin put a hand on the back of his neck.

“Relax,” Kirin told him.

“I am,” Garion shot back, flinching again at his own knee-jerk reaction. But Kirin didn't say anything, tilting Garion's head away again. Kirin leaned in and inhaled deep, lips brushing his neck. Garion moved closer and settled his head on Kirin's shoulders, his eyes shut tight and his own lips trembling.

Kirin chuckled and settled a hand on his thigh, rubbing up and down to soothe him. His other hand kept a tight hold on Garion's neck and tilted his head father back. Kirin kissed the skin over his shoulder, pushing Garion's shirt away with nose and taking a bit of skin between his lips to suck on it. Garion shivered and tightened his hold on Kirin. The fangs came next and this time they pushed harder than before, digging into his skin like knives that carved their way into his flesh and ripped him open.

The sharp pain twinged and hooked in his belly with thick claws. Garion writhed, fingers scrabbling where they held to Kirin's vest. Kirin's hand clamped down hard, holding him still as the fangs pushed harder. The pinprick pain radiated over Garion's back and down his arms, sharp and powerful where it dug into his shoulder. It stung and Garion felt tears starting at the corners of his eyes. He breathed hard at the stabbing pain that blossomed outward from his shoulder.

There was something like a pop, and sudden relief. Garion cried out, nearly tossing his head back, but Kirin still had a hard grip on his neck. The absence of pain was like a drug and Garion groaned, pushing harder into Kirin's lap. There was a strange pulling at his shoulder and Garion bit his lip, nostrils flaring as his breath stuck in his throat and the fire in his groin flared again, blood pounding fast under Kirin's touch.

The hand on his thigh moved up, slipping under the band of his boxers to knead his ass. Garion tried to duck into Kirin's chest again but there was something locked on his shoulder and he was incredibly dizzy. Instead he turned and opened his mouth, licking at Kirin's neck. Kirin fed deeply from him and Garion ground down to get pressure between his legs, to sooth the need that ate at him as strongly as Kirin was.

The pleasure drove up, higher and higher, climbing up Garion's spine. He wrapped his arms even tighter around Kirin, digging into the vest, and panted openly against his neck. Arousal curled in his body and licked its way down his legs. Garion moaned, letting it crash over him like a wave. His legs shook and he pressed his face down as much as he could, his cheeks stained red. He struggled to breathe through the pleasure bursting through him like lightning.

Kirin didn't stop sucking on his skin right away and Garion had a long moment of trying to find his bearings between the orgasm and the blood loss. When he felt a cool breeze on his neck, he turned and saw Kirin looking down at him, a pleased smile and blood on his lips. Something warm trickled down his shoulder and wet his shirt. Garion frowned and glanced at it.

He'd bled before. Living in a land where monsters tried to knock down your door as soon as the sun set meant more than a few accidents. There was quite a lot of it dripping down his shoulder, and Garion's brow furrowed, trying to think through the stuffed cotton feeling in his head to remember how to stop it.

He mumbled something but the words didn't form correctly. Kirin grinned and ducked his head down, licking a long stripe up his shoulder to the two puncture wounds above Garion's collar, tracing his tongue over them a few times and sitting up again. “You were delicious,” he said, bringing both hands to Garion's shoulders and forcing him to back up so they could meet each other's eyes.

Garion blinked and frowned again. “Thanks,” he mumbled, looking at the wound. It wasn't bleeding as badly as before but there were still drops trickling down his shoulder. He raised a hand to try and pat at it, stop the blood, but his hand fell immediately, dropping to his lap. Garion groaned and shifted, feeling the tackiness of his own arousal in his boxers. The binder on his chest was suddenly tight and he had urge to rip it off so he could take a few deep breaths, and maybe sleep for a couple of days.

Kirin pushed him off, moving Garion so he was lying on the bed. “Wait here,” he said, and stood, leaving the room. Garion pushed onto his side and watched the door, ignoring the blood that dripped off his skin and onto the bedspread. The sheets were black anyway, the stain hardly mattered.

Even blinking took effort, and several long, slow blinks later, Kirin was back, holding something. He pushed Garion onto his back again and revealed a damp cloth, wiping gently over the wounds. Garion flinched and hissed at the touch. The fading adrenaline and endorphin rush left him with a sharp, throbbing pain, and he instinctively went to cover the wound with a hand.

“No,” Kirin told him firmly, grabbing his wrist and forcing it back down on the bed. “Leave it, let it scab over.” He wiped the wound clean one last time and drew back, standing again. He looked down at Garion, his eyes soft. “Stay here and rest. I'll wake you when the blood moon is over.”

Garion opened his mouth and tried to think of something to say, but nothing appropriate came to mind. He hadn't been educated on vampire etiquette and the proper protocol for what to do after giving up a pint of blood. He settled for “Sure,” and nodded a fraction of an inch.

Kirin smiled again. “Goodnight, Garion.”

“Night.” Garion turned his head just enough to watch Kirin leave and pushed himself on his side again. The pain had faded to a dull ache, stinging each time he moved his shoulder, and he tried his best to keep still once he was settled.

Maybe, if he were lucky, Kirin would want to feed from him again. 


End file.
